A Long Morning
by YamimoriYagami
Summary: Oneshot. Magical Boy AU; Gore wanders around Thneedville drunkenly at night to avoid going home, but Dream finds him and takes him back to his place. Warnings: Slight gore, underage drinking, murder, vomiting, fluffyness (in that order)


**A/N: I didn't mean to make Gore so wasted, but I was going by my own experience the last time I drank and never again.**

**This takes place in the Magical Boy AU on Tumblr and the characters are Gore/Gavin, bloodstained-magic, and Dream/Gengler, murderous-magical-boy for anyone interested in their story~**

**My Onceler tumblr is ask-dream-eating-onceler since I always post fanfiction there first.**

x~x~x~

All it took was a good twenty minutes of slicing, stabbing, gouging, and the nameless boy's fresh corpse was laying in the alleyway like a heap of tenderized meat. The killer grinned maliciously, full coated and splattered in the blood of victim for the night.

If only this guy hadn't randomly called out to Dream, calling him a "fag" and throwing a half full can of soda at him, he would still be going about his little ant life of partying and sexing it up in the early morning hours.

The streets were abandoned at 3:00 AM, so no attention was brought about when Dream's scarf magically expanded, and firmly shoved the young man into the large crevice between abandoned building. A box cutter laced with magic could easily cut into anything; this was what the Magical Boy enjoyed doing with his free time—wandering the streets until he found someone he deemed unworthy of life.

As he stared down at the red and pink clumps of flesh, the purple amethyst pendent he wore around his scarf began to faintly glow as the blood stains began to slowly disappear from his clothing.

Magic was a great thing! It not only had given him the ability to manipulate memories thanks to his contract with the Kyubey, but it washed laundry, too.

Dream had the power to kill anyone he wanted and get away with it, leaving no trace. Trading his humanity was just a small price to pay in order to become a god, in his own view. "Humanity" had never been something he cared about, anyway. People were awful and he'd never been satisfied with the reality of his life. So this contract had been a real blessing.

x~x~x~x

But there was one person he cared about. And that person was only a couple of blocks away, drunkenly staggering through the streets of Thneedville.

Gore held the bottle of liquor in his hand, glazed red eyes staring at nothing. He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and murmured a slurred, "shuddup, Marcell..."

He coughed a little; the air had turned cold and he sunk against a dumpster. He'd been here before to sleep—at at least he thought he had. Maybe this was a different dumpster. He was too far intoxicated to care. It was better than a house full of perfectly smiling strangers that called themselves his family.

He heard a buzzing. There was a nightclub a down the street and the graffiti and vibrating bass should have given it away.

Gore had been like this for a while now. Ever since his wish for a family void of problems had been granted by that little white demon, he'd taken to drinking the night away with no destination or crashing point.

"Dude, lookit that tiny chick she's totally wasted!"

"Dude, that's a boy!"

"Dude, I don't care!"

Gore looked up towards the muffled voices to see three figures that were peering down at him. They seemed so much taller than him under the influence of alcohol. Like giants peering down at some tiny human they could just gobble up.

One of them grabbed his wrist, trying to pull him up but to no avail. Gore was firmly planted on the ground and not going anywhere with these creeps. He sloppily jerked his entire arm away. "No..." He mumbled, squinting his eyes to try to get a better look at these men that were attempting to kidnap him to who knows where.

They began yelling among themselves and so the frail boy took the opportunity to began crawling away. He'd become so uncoordinated that he simply fell flat onto his stomach, prompting a nauseous feeling. He'd clearly drank too much tonight.

"Dude, let's just take 'er back to my place!" He could make out a few words.

"She'll be too wasted to even remember."

"The fuck are you?"

The men turned to a figure standing in the middle of the road.

A familiar voice just said solemnly, "the grim reaper, you piece of shit."

Gore began coughing, vomiting a little behind the dumpster. The world spun around him as he sat up to try to steady himself. The foul smelling crevice provided little relief. It smelled as if something had died and was just rotting away back there. He had to pull away, but as he did he could hear three distinct thuds behind him.

He saw the decapitated head of a man by his feet, jaw opened and eyes still wide in disbelief. A clear cut piece of brain stem pierced through his neck. Blood was dripping from the skin.

"Almost forgot that one." Dream casually picked the head up by the hair and tossed it into the dumpster, with the other bodies and heads, as if he were just casually throwing away a bag of trash. He'd sliced off their heads all in one swipe.

"Gavin, are you alright?" Dream seemed more concerned for his friend, kneeling next to him.

"Yeah, uh..." Gore was trying to collect himself, because he hadn't been expecting this and he felt slightly embarrassed now. "I do-do this sometimes..." His eyes darted to the mostly empty bottle of liquor that had rolled down the sidewalk.

Dream's eyes followed his and he knew. He could tell just by looking at Gavin that something was off. "Seriously? That stuff is awful for you..." He gently took Gore's hand and helped him up, the small boy stumbling and trying to balance himself. "Can you stand up? Actually, here, just get on my back..."

The last time he'd had Gore on his back, he wasn't dead weight and things were much easier.

"Wheregoin'?" Gore slurred.

"To my place. You can rest up there and sober up..." He wasn't sure what else to do with him in this condition, but he sure as hell wasn't going to just leave him out in the streets. How long had he been out here, anyway?

x~x~x~x

By the time he arrived at his apartment, Dream had noticed Gore was out cold so he just placed him on the bed, threw a blanket over him, and began to leave when he heard the boy let out a soft whine.

He turned around. "Did you say something?"

"Marcell..."

"Marcell isn't here."

"He's looking for me..." Gore sat up on his elbow. "I can't let him..." He hiccuped. "Find me here..."

"Shhh..." Dream cooed and glided back over to him, sitting on the edge of the bed. "He won't find you. You're at my place, remember?"

Gore moved his head a little, giving a faint nod as his glanced around the room to make sure it was true.

"Just rest up and we'll talk tomorrow, alright?"

"Thank you, Gengler..." He sniffled, sobering up a little now. He felt embarrassed that his friend had to see him in this condition. "I haven't been going home..."

"Don't tell me you've been wandering the streets like that every night?"

The silence spoke the truth.

"Gavin..." He sighed and ran a hand through his black bangs. "That's really dangerous. We may be Magical Boys, but that doesn't mean we can't be..." He didn't want to say it. "That doesn't mean bad things can't happen to us."

"I know..." Gore frowned. He knew he'd disappointed Dream and that bothered him.

"If you wanna drink to help you with your problems, you can do it here, alright?" He wasn't upset at the fact Gore was drinking, but at the fact he'd been carelessly wandering the dangerous streets of Thneedville intoxicated and vulnerable. If he hadn't come along, he hated to think what would've happened if those men had continued harassing Gore.

"Th-thanks..." Gore shyly looked away."But how did you find me?"

"I kill people at night sometimes...I just happened to be around."

Gore couldn't say he was surprised. He'd suspected that Dream had been the one behind all of those murdered teen cases and that he'd personally executed the boy that shoved him down the steps that day.

Dream lay next to Gore on the other side of the bed. Now he felt a little ashamed of himself, though he didn't know why. He certainly felt no guilt for killing anyone, but rather for hiding his own late night activities.

"You're a good friend..." Gore gave him a small smile.

"I thought we were more than that?" Dream chuckled a little, then caught that it may have sounded awkward. "I mean, best friends and all that..." He rubbed his neck nervously. "So if you're feeling better, wanna do something tomorrow other than hunt witches?"

"Sure. I'll feel better, then..." He began to sit up, but sure enough that queasy feeling began bubbling in his stomach again. He made a bee line for the bathroom just a few yards from him in the hall.

Dream could hear the other gagging and got up to fetch a cup of water from the kitchen. This reminded him of why he never liked touching alcohol—it usually resulted in sickness.

"Here..." He offered the cup to Gore.

"Th-thanks..." The boy panted, thirstily downing the drink as he sunk onto the floor in a fetal position, a small trail of drool around his lips.

Dream knelt down and rubbed the others back comfortingly.

It was going to be a long morning, but they'd go to their favorite diner and get some milkshakes later to make it all better.


End file.
